something of a hero. The way he had put on his full dress uniform to give the Germans a cold but unimpeachably correct welcome. The way he had himself lowered the tricolor and insisted that no German hands touch it. The way he had protected the town from destruction and prevailed upon the German authorities to punish any looting. The way he had even gone in person to the general in charge to demand that German vehicles be used to bring food into the town. All these had won him a reputation as a humane man who kept his head in a crisis. Such men are rare in the best of circumstances; in late 1940 they were beyond value; he swiftly had his reward. He was needed badly.
There was much to do, a whole society to rebuild, an entire regime to establish. Simple things, normally taken for granted, required immense effort and labor. All his tasks he accomplished with efficiency and dispatch. He never complained, never made excuses, seemed to sleep in the Préfecture, was an inspiration to all around. He was the perfect product of the system, almost its justification.
It was some time before he turned his mind to the minor matters and, on the recommendation of the Minister of Education, wrote the letter that summoned Julien Barneuve from his exile to see him.
“People have been making inquiries about you, my friend,” he said, and was gratified to see Julien look slightly alarmed. A little joke, which was also a small exercise of power. “I have had two memos about you.”
Julien looked puzzled. “I cannot think why,” he said.
“We have been drawing up lists of people who might be pressed into service. You wrote an article a year ago, it seems. About a bishop. It has been noticed by people who think it has the right attitude. Which shows how thorough they are being. Combined with personal recommendations . . .”
“I published it a year ago,” he interrupted. “I wrote it several years back.”
“Yes, yes. The point is that it is just the sort of thing we need at the moment. The context. A model, if you like, of how relations with our—what shall we call them?—new friends—may develop. That’s why your name has come forward. It is a small consequence of having a classicist as Minister of Education.”
Julien looked thoroughly puzzled. “What are you talking about?”
“The Germans, Julien, the Germans. Remember them? Those people who have occupied half our country? You argued that although the barbarians conquered Gaul, the Gauls civilized them. A greater victory and in the end beneficial all round.”
“I did nothing of the sort,” Julien replied. “And I can see no parallels between then and now at all.”
Marcel looked slightly irritated. “That’s how it seems to people in Vichy. Goths and Germans, rebellious serfs and communists. Very neat. Don’t expect politicians to pick up subtleties. The point is, they want you to help. Do your bit to steady things. Your duty, really.”
“I’m really not with you.”
“Give lectures. Write articles. Check the newspapers aren’t being unhelpful. That sort of thing. Radio, now. We could organize a few talks on the radio as well. Immensely popular, those are.”
“I don’t think that’s something I’d be very good at. Or inclined to do. Peddling vulgarized half-truths is not something that would appeal much.”
Marcel paused and sat down at his desk. “Listen, Julien my friend. Let me give you a little lecture. You, after all, have given me enough of them over the years. Do you know what the situation is here? In this country? Probably not. We have been beaten. This you may have noticed. Even you. Definitively and completely, this time. We are in a new world, one which has changed forever. The Germans have won, so comprehensively they cannot now be defeated. There is no one left to fight them. They have complete control over Europe. England is hanging on by its fingertips and will inevitably be destroyed sooner or later. Eventually, no doubt, there will be a war on Russia and it will suffer the same fate. Our government, meanwhile, is in the grip of an old general surrounded by men of often doubtful motives. The people are dazed, confused, and prey to any convincing charlatan who might come along. They have to be protected from false hope and expectation. . . .”
“People like Bernard, you mean?”
“Exactly like Bernard. I hear he has fled the country. That was the best news I have heard for a long time. Think what he would be writing now. Sniping criticism from the sidelines, assaults on those who lost the war—all justified, no doubt. Worthy articles on democracy and freedom. Constant bickering about every piece of legislation. Character assassinations of ministers and politicians. A never-ending stream inciting hatred against those people who have just driven their tanks all over our country and divided it in two. Again, justified no doubt. But that is not the point. We cannot look back. We dare not. The people have to be consoled and encouraged and protected. We cannot afford a people divided, or a government hampered by internal bickering. Not at the moment.
“And there is another point.
Julien shrugged. “Of course. What of them?”
“A group supposedly of old soldiers. Very virtuous. Heroes of the last war, although how many actually took part in it is doubtful. They have attached themselves to the president, got close to him. Do you know what they are doing? ‘The bureaucracy will not carry out your orders,’ they whisper in his ear. ‘You cannot rely on them. Let us help. Let us be your eyes and ears, tell you what is going on, do those jobs which otherwise will not get done.’ They are dangerous people, Julien. If they are not stopped, they will bypass people like me, all the usual balances of administration will collapse, and it will fall into the hands of old street fighters. Do you remember we were both in Paris in 1928? When there were the riots, when the right battled the communists on the streets? You said you couldn’t decide which was worse, you were merely terrified either would ever come to power?”
Marcel paused. “They are nearly there, Julien. Marshal Pétain is a fine man, a hero. But he is easily influenced. And these are the people who are influencing him. And unless I can surround myself with people I trust, then they will take more and more of the administration here into their hands. And that is why I need you, a decorated soldier, a renowned scholar, a respected figure, by my side. I need my friends, now more than ever. And, as I say, you cannot sit on the sidelines talking about your inclinations. If there was a war on, you could go off and fight, if you wanted. Very noble. Very simple. But the war is over. Now the really dangerous part begins. You have to see, Julien, what a chance we have. To renew and rebuild this country, give it good government, get rid of all those people who do nothing but criticize and weaken us. All those people who lost us the war. Look at the Germans; look at how they run things, and look at the shambles that we became. I don’t like them, but we must learn from them if we are ever going to get off our knees. But we must keep it out of the hands of the thugs as well. A balancing act. If you do not help me, you are helping them. Here ends my lecture.”
Julien gazed at him, saw that he had considered this speech, written it in his head for this moment, and was absolutely convinced that what he was saying was correct. Nor could Julien disagree with him. His friend was talking little more than common sense. But he was still reluctant to take the step Marcel seemed so desperately to want.
“I just don’t see how giving lectures will help,” he said.
“Oh, that. Useful. Keeps spirits up, explains what we’re doing. Keeping an eye on the newspapers and publishers is the more important part. Making sure no defeatist, critical nonsense is spread about. We can’t afford it. The government, no doubt, is not perfect. But it’s all we’ve got at the moment, and it has to be given a chance. And at the same time you must fend off criticism of me from within. Do a good job, use all that intelligence of yours.”
“What do you mean by keeping an eye on things?”
“Which journals and papers get allocations of paper? Which books should get priority for printing? All that sort of thing.”
“I am completely unqualified.”
“Who isn’t? You are an academic with a good reputation. Aren’t you?”
“I think so.”
“There you are. Trustworthy, to me and to the people who will be benefiting from your fatherly advice. It’s for the general good, you know. We have to keep things calm. If you don’t do it, someone else will. And, frankly, you have no choice. You’ve been sitting on your backside for years talking about the need to defend civilization from the barbarians, and now’s your chance. The barbarians are here.”
Marcel stood up and brushed his lank hair back across his head. His face—now slightly pudgy from age, scored with lines from work and worry—was flushed from the intensity of his speech.
“Go away and think about it,” he said. “And when you’ve thought about it, go to the Hotel Continental. I’ve requisitioned a floor for the new censor’s office. You start work on Monday.”
